Beautiful Liar
by RaisedOnRadio
Summary: He would settle the mask of lies on his face and tell himself that it was all meant to be. [complete short story]
1. Chapter 1

_This is a fanfiction of Ghost Hunt set to the tune and plot of the music video for 'Beautiful Liar' by VIXX LR._

 _The timeline is set sometime before 1997._

 _(This fiction was revised to better fit canon storyline on 11-24-15)_

…

Koujo Lin stood in front of a nondescript office building crammed between two identical structures.

Though Lin was well versed with the history and studies of the SPR, he had never visited its British headquarters. Perhaps he had never really intended to. He considered his training to be quite complete. One could even say his family was well known for producing fine sorcerers.

He had been in England for three months, and it had been a surprise to learn that the professor Lin had attended lectures from was a parapsychologist on the side. The man had invited Lin to visit the SPR. The professor was interesting and had earned Lin's respect. The professor did not shy away like most people.

That was because most people did not know why Lin frightened them. They only knew that sometimes things worked in his favor in a way that was difficult to explain. The professor was well aware of the dark arts and the like that Lin practiced.

These dark arts were the presence of his shiki in the back of his mind, floating in the ether, hollow and ready to be filled with his commands. They held no physical forms, had no voices.

The street was quiet, and Lin could feel the eyes of curious office workers looking through slatted blinds on the other buildings. He was certain that the watchers had seen far stranger visitors to the SPR than this tall man of Chinese descent dressed in a simple black business suit. The only thing that could be remembered as unique was the fringe of sleek black hair that covered one eye.

The door opened to a short balding man in his late forties with a beaming grin.

"Mr. Koujo," the portly man shook his hand vigorously, though he was barely holding on to the tips of Lin's fingers. "I'm Jeffrey Smith, and we are so glad to have you here. Welcome to the Society for Psychical Research."

"It's Lin –"

"Of course, and you can call me Jeffrey. We're all on a first name basis here too. Come in. So you're from China?"

Lin hesitated on the stoop for a moment, a frown directed at the man's back as he went inside, expecting Lin to follow. Lin was used to being referred to from his surname as a level of respect. He had never had someone mistake it as his given name before. "Actually," he said as he entered the building and remembered to answer Jeffrey's question, "Hong Kong."

"Oh, so you're practically British already. You'll fit right in."

Lin had to remind himself that it was self-indulgent to have a shiki wring Jeffrey's neck for such a minor offense.

Jeffrey took Lin's elbow – though he barely came to Lin's shoulder – and started leading him down the hallway. "Let me show you around quickly. Headquarters isn't too big, as you can see. You look so young. I've heard you control shiki already? How many?"

It had been a small hope that a society for psychic research didn't linger on idle talk.

"I control many," Lin said. The lie was thick on his tongue. If there was someone who wanted to cause him trouble, how many shiki he controlled would be a valuable asset, so it was information he didn't give away easily.

And he only had three so far.

"That would be such a stress at any age. You must be very balanced."

Before he could reply to Jeffrey, the older man muttered, "Speaking of young…" He let go of Lin's arm and backed up a few paces where they had passed a stairwell going up.

Two young twin boys sat on the sixth step up. Jeffrey clapped his hands when they didn't acknowledge him. "Boys! Where is your father?"

The twins looked to be barely over the age of twelve, and were of Asian descent.

"He went to get a cup of coffee," one of the boys said. Lin thought he could detect a hint of an American accent, though he wasn't well enough versed to know exactly where. The silent boy wore a mask of indifference, something Lin was well practiced in.

"Then you should be in the office he's using, not out here," Jeffrey said. From the abrupt tone in his voice, Lin had a feeling that Jeffrey was even worse with kids than he was.

"He locked us out," the first boy said, the only one who had spoken so far.

"On purpose?" Jeffrey asked.

"No," said the first boy.

"Yes," said the mirror image of him at the same time.

They looked at each other, then repeated together, "No."

"So if you just unlock the door sir, we'll get out of your hair."

Jeffrey shook his head. "I don't have the key to that office; you'll have to wait on him. Please stay out of trouble."

The quiet boy watched Lin with cold eyes. The boys were Japanese, but he did not know where the thought had surfaced from. He felt a swell of fierce loyalty to his grandmother and horrific stories she had told about the war.

Lin sensed a shiki come to attention without a request from him. The talkative boy looked at Lin, or more specifically, past his shoulder. The boy turned away, the faintest shudder passing through his small body.

The fact that a shiki had materialized enough for the boy to sense it alarmed Lin.

Jeffrey had taken off down the hallway, though with his stature, he had not gotten very far before Lin's long strides met up with him.

"You watch out for those two," Jeffrey said, throwing a glance over his shoulder, presumably to make sure the children were not following them. "Especially the older one. Or is it the younger one? How are you supposed to know that, anyway? Orphan twin boys, could have been mixed up at birth, for all they know."

"They're adopted?" Lin asked.

"Yes, they're Martin's boys. Whatever possessed him and Luella to adopt them is beyond me. They only look like trouble and heartache to me."

…

About the time that Lin was ready to leave – or escape, Martin Davis came in through a side door to the kitchen. Davis was older than one would have expected by the youth of the two boys. Behind Davis was a young woman with dark cherry colored hair. She looked too young to be his wife, so there was a good chance she was adopted too. Lin ignored the smile she tried to give him.

Davis came up short, a cup of take-out coffee in one hand. "Oh, Mr. Lin – I didn't know you were coming today." He transferred the coffee to his left and offered his free hand. Lin took it. It was a firm, confident handshake. "I'm glad you were able to make it. This is my associate Madoka Mori. I trust Jeffrey didn't bore you?"

"No, he was very informative." _And he was dropping gossip about you to a complete stranger, you probably should be aware of that._

Davis looked at him, a steady gaze, and proved there were levels of intelligence and strength in any society, big or small. Lin felt the urge to sit down on the steps and tell this man his problems, with Vivian, with moving from his home country, and from his third shiki…

So he thanked Davis, letting him know he would be in touch, and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Vivian wasn't home yet. Lin dropped onto the bed without bothering to turn on the lamp. In front of him, the mirrored closet doors caught the light of the hallway, throwing shadows across his face in the reflection. His good eye glinted. It was wrong to have a mirror facing the bed. It invited the third party into your sleeping space.

Maybe he just disliked mirrors all together, because sometimes the shadows moved differently than they did in the real world.

Stopping at the SPR had been a waste of time. It was basically Jeffrey not knowing what to do with Lin, and yet wanting to not lose hold of him. They'll try to get Lin on a team, if research was what he was interested in. Or he could apply for some grant money if he had projects to work on. Or, Jeffrey had continued, peering at Lin's fringe of hair, if Lin wanted to have people study him instead…

 _Why isn't she home._ The thought came unbidden, and the angry undercurrents made it a statement, not a question. Lin could not push the irritation aside.

Jeffrey had called him balanced. Lin believed the last time he had been balanced was before he had left Hong Kong, before he had added the third shiki.

Shiki were hollow. They should be empty and detached until he was ready to use them. When Lin probed the presence, the third shiki felt…full. Of emotion.

Lin had been upset during the preparation and through the ritual. Vivian and his relationship had been rocky again even though they were not only moving in with each other, but out of the country as well. He was angry about the changes coming to his home country, how he was being forced to move if he wanted to keep his ways of life. He had wanted one more shiki before leaving for England, as if the shiki gained later on in another country would be somehow different.

It was possible that the lack of control in his own life slipped through into the spiritual ties with the shiki, that he had transferred these very human emotions right into the being. And Lin didn't know what to do about it.

In reality, he needed the master, his grandfather, who had passed away suddenly three years ago. The death certificate said it was a stroke. Lin knew it was from a shiki his grandfather had lost control of.

It was very possible that was the path Lin was heading down.

The front door to the apartment clicked open. Her soft steps came closer down the hallway, and he heard them hesitate in the doorway. She turned the light on.

"Koujo, you're home," Vivian said in Cantonese. When they were young, they were taught English in school, but it was a comfort to drop into the language of their heritage. "How was the SPR?"

He could see her in the reflection. Her glossy black hair was pulled up, her eye makeup done to exaggerate her eyes. Her mother had named her Vivian after some actress – which one, Vivian wasn't sure; the story had changed every time it was told. Her family's elders had been appalled that a child could be named on a whim. Her mother had said it was simply being prepared for the time they would leave Hong Kong, which was inevitable due to the Chinese takeover.

"They seemed impressed by the paperwork I sent to them," Lin said. "Yet they didn't know what to do with me. The man who showed me around looked like he hadn't done any field work in a decade."

"I'm sorry," she said. After a pause, a tentative smile crossed her face. "You'll be pleased I found a job. It's a modeling gig. He said that my face was exactly what he was looking for."

"Of course he would, Vivian." Lin turned around and her smile quickly faded. "Just another foreigner with an Asian fetish."

"Maybe you've forgotten that we're the foreigners here, Koujo. What was I supposed to do? You didn't want me just sitting around the apartment."

"But was your only option to sell yourself?"

"I didn't –"

"Was I just your free ride out of the country?"

She stiffened. "Look, it's just a few pictures for a catalog. Some type of artisan jewelry. It's not like I'm taking off my clothes!" By the end of the last sentence, her voice had risen in pitch. She heaved in a breath. "Why do you always assume the worst when it comes to me? What have I done to earn your distrust?"

Tears she could not hold back marred her makeup, and she spun on her heel.

When he heard the bathroom door slam down the hall, he dropped his head and leaned his elbows on his thighs.

He hadn't paid her way. Vivian had plenty of her own family money. Why did he always lash out at her?

Lin looked up and he could almost see the outline of a shiki behind him. The shadows curved around the preternatural being like a water droplet.

He closed his eyes, slowed his breath, and attempted to settle his mind.

Lin sat up when Vivian reappeared in the doorway. Because of the way the room was situated, she had to walk past him as she went to her small dresser. She handed a card to him as she went by, not taking the time to notice if he took it or not.

The paper was dark, and _Wedding Invitation_ was written in silver foil across the front. "What's this?"

"My cousin is getting married. I forgot to tell you. My aunt gave me the invitation this morning."

If Vivian's mother had been odd according to the elders, she had nothing on her older sister, who had up and moved to England a quarter of a century ago. Her youngest of three boys had been born here, and he was the one getting married.

Vivian and Lin had carefully not discussed marriage, and the unexpected invitation in his hand had brought the topic into focus. They should have been entertaining the thought by now.

He opened the envelope, and saw that it was only addressed to her. Apparently her family had never planned him on marrying her.

He had intended on marrying her once.

She went to the wrought iron hat rack in the corner and started pulling off clothes she had strewn on it. She could have been simply looking for an outfit for tomorrow. Or she could already be packing to move out. The clothes accumulated into a pile on the floor until she sat down on the bed behind him, her body language sharp and irritated. He shouldn't have been able to see her drop her head into her hands, but the mirror violated that privacy. She looked up and their eyes met through the reflection.

"Just go away, please," she said.

Lin inclined his head, watching his face through a lowered eyelid in the mirror. His expression was emotionless, except for the taut lines around the corners of his mouth and eyes. Beautiful memories were being tainted as he struggled to remember why they were together in the first place. Would she be happier if he just let her go?

In the kitchen, the phone rang. She made no move, so he left the bedroom to answer it.

"Hello?"

"This is Martin Davis speaking. Have I reached Koujo Lin?"

"Yes. What can I do for you, Mr. Davis?"

"I want to offer you a side job. Outside of the SPR. If you are interested." Davis' sentences held an agitated undertone. "It's one of my sons. His abilities are…well, I certainly won't boast them as unique. But they are unusual, and he needs to learn how to control them."

"I doubt I'm qualified, Mr. Davis," Lin said, though he knew there was a very good chance he would be.

"That was quick," Davis said. "I thought you would have at least waited to meet with him once."

The problem was Lin had already met them. "I'm not good with children," he said. _Especially Japanese children._

"That would not be a problem. Oliver is more mature than most adults I meet."

Lin was sure every parent said that at one time or another, whether the child was of their own blood or not. But to deny this opportunity would be a step backwards from the direction he was wanted to take.

"Would tomorrow be all right with you?" Lin asked.

"Yes, the hospital does not intend on holding him overnight." Davis rattled off the address.

Lin stood there holding the phone after Davis was gone, trying to process the last statement.

…

The dinner dishes had been cleared but Lin and Vivian still sat across from each other at the small table. The hanging light above them was lightly swinging back and forth. Maybe a breeze was filtering in through the open window.

Vivian leaned forward to take his hand, and he instinctively pulled away. Her shoulders slumped as she stood up.

Lin almost reached for her hands. He assumed pride made him hesitate.

"I'll spend the night at my Aunt's," she said. "Good night."

…

That night, he dreamed.

A man sat next to him on the end of the bed. They didn't look at each other directly, instead making eye contact in the mirror before them. His face was similar to Lin's in the way that each artist would draw a face differently when given a basic description. Minor changes in the cheekbones and jaw line made the face a different man. Then the artist had added flairs of their own: the other man's hair was stark white, and both of his eyes were visible. They were an electric blue, like the eye that Lin kept so carefully hidden. The man smiled at him in the mirror. His teeth gleamed white, contrasting with a brightly colored suit. Red and blue clashed in an erratic tie-dye pattern.

Lin liked black. It was professional. It didn't draw the imagination back to soothsayers found in the dark corners of brightly lit festivals.

Behind them, Vivian slept fitfully in a white silk nightgown that bared her thighs. The other man slid off of the bed and came around close to her. He leaned down, a hand straddled over her waist. He hovered over her lips, but he didn't touch her. She gasped softly in her sleep.

"Don't let her go," the other man murmured. "She's a good catch. Obedient, if trained right. I want you to keep her."

Lin found himself agreeing with him.

Lin sat up with a quick intake of breath, completely alone, and still jumped at his reflection across the bed. His hair was tousled away from his face, and he had an alarming sensation that the mismatched eyes were no longer his own.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, he found Vivian at the door, not proud and composed as he expected, but a mess of tears.

"I need to talk to you," she said.

She paused in the kitchen, and wiped her tears on her sleeve. It didn't stem the flow. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "Walking out last night wasn't the answer."

Vivian came close and cupped his face. This wasn't what Lin had anticipated. It was not how their last serious argument had panned out. He wondered, suddenly, if she had dreamed last night.

He lowered his gaze. It felt wrong to meet her eyes.

Vivian let go and collapsed into a kitchen chair. As she ran her fingers through her untidy hair, she said, "I guess I expected you to take your words back. That was stupid of me."

He nodded. His body ached with the falsehoods he was piling on his shoulders, and his heart shuddered against the cage he secured it in. It didn't matter anymore what he wanted. Her well being was what mattered.

"I guess it is not fixable this time," he said, and smiled wanly. He hoped it looked authentic, because it felt like thin plastic film was across his face, holding everything in place.

He sat down across from her, and she slid her house key across the table. The keychain was a brass padlock with its own heart-shaped key. It gleamed from the light overhead, taunting him. She had left the keychain on since he had given it to her.

As he reached for the key, the shiki in its human garb was there, standing at the table between them. He slapped it away from Lin's outstretched fingers. The brass clinked onto the floor.

Lin blinked, and the keys were still on the table, for the shiki could not yet manipulate the physical realm.

Vivian twitched, as if she had heard the sound too. She looked up, and seemed to stare right at the shiki's face. Then her eyes shifted away to Lin. They were unfocused and hurt.

 _It's alright if you leave,_ Lin thought.

She got up and started down to the short hallway to the front door. The shiki started after her.

Lin caught its wrist. The shiki snarled as it jerked and twisted. When the shiki had almost escaped Lin leapt up and pinned its arms, and was tossed off with another growl.

Lin still held its wrist, and was forcibly dragged down the hall.

He could feel the pain in his arms, and he had to question if his body was actually still just sitting at the table.

When he heard the front door open, then shut, he grabbed at the shiki's legs and upended the demon. He soon had an arm around the shiki's neck and his legs around its waist as it struggled.

Lin could feel love and fury, rage and desire churning through the being, and in turn, himself. It seemed like it wanted to speak, to make Lin understand, but Lin shut it out. Communicating with a shiki outside of a command was a dangerous dead end. When it seemed to know that Lin was not going to give it an audience, it attempted to rake its fingernails – which were now claws – over Lin's face.

Every person had their own way to cut a spiritual cord. If the cord was thick from a good relationship that had gone sour, it could rebound on you if cut suddenly, causing physical pain. In the past, Lin had allowed during meditation a candle flame to gently eat away at cords that no longer served him. It let the strands go one by one, and when there was only one left it just fell away.

If there was the first plane of existence – where Lin's body still sat, watching the door with a brooding despair – and the second plane was where this fight was taking place, yet another level came into prospective – where the shiki and he stood, calmly.

The shiki embraced Lin.

 _Don't do it_ , it whispered into his ear, and Lin could feel its sharp teeth at his neck.

Lin imagined a machete and hacked at the cord which bound him and the third shiki together.

The shiki gasped and choked, though if it was from the cord being cut or from the arm that was blocking his windpipe, it was uncertain. The shiki should never have had the physical presence to feel the pain the lack of breath was causing.

The first hit didn't sever the cord.

The second strike did.

The shiki melted from his hands, and reassembled into a vague shape behind Lin. Lin turned without getting up, watching the shiki fade as it walked, or rather stumbled away.

The remaining two shiki were silent. They did not have a concept of camaraderie.

Lin, still sitting on the kitchen floor, closed his eyes. Weariness settled into his body from the violent removal. He tried to visualize Vivian happy and moved on from their relationship. The images wouldn't come.

There was a flicker of hope that she would come back in, say one more time that they could make this work. He had no right for that thought, since he had already rebuffed the offer. He had done so for her safety and freedom, but that wasn't something she was aware of. He had come to terms that he had never shared enough with her. Yes, his craft was a secretive work, but if he had allowed her to support him at times, maybe he would not be on the floor after the breakup, wishing there was a way to fix it.

He felt their spiritual cord snap. He had not prepared for it, so the sudden hollow ache in his heart hit him hard.

He knew tears were in his eyes, but he didn't allow them to spill over. The cord had been tainted by the wants of the shiki, so the fact it had been broken wasn't wrong. They could easily forge a new one, if he got up, followed her, and apologized. For everything.

In front of her aunt and cousins, who would see a broken man incapable of living without a woman.

In front of his remaining shiki, who might just be paying more attention than he gave credit to.

In front of the memory of his father, who had said to never grovel for a woman. _Don't give her that power over you._

The phone rang. It took all of Lin's remaining energy to get up.

"My cousins will pick up my possessions tomorrow," Vivian said. There was no pain in her voice. She sounded happier than she had been in months. If it was an act or the truth, he had no right to ask.

"I won't be home," he said. His voice was smooth and steady. "I will leave the door unlocked."

He knew he had given free rein to protective men who viewed Vivian as a sister, but at that moment, he didn't care if they emptied the whole apartment. He had nothing to lose.

There was no more conversation. They simply said good bye.

He returned to the bedroom. To shatter the mirror was tempting but not worth giving an explanation to the landlord.

He stopped and examined his face, with its reddened, shining eye. He wondered if the other was capable of tears. The question should have been absurd, but he suddenly couldn't remember the last time he had shed tears.

He wiped his hand across his face and smiled in the mirror. The expression was not believable, so he let it slip.

"I won't miss her," he told the reflection.

 _What a liar._

"No woman is worth chasing after."

 _Oh, and a coward as well._


End file.
